


whispers in the night

by helsinkibaby



Category: Law & Order: UK
Genre: Community: comment_fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times she wakes him, there are times he wakes her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whispers in the night

He's getting used to her waking up with a start in the middle of the night. 

Sometimes it's with a shout, sometimes with a scream, both of which have him waking up with an equal start. Both of those, however, are infinitely preferable to the nights when she wakes up with a sob, when he turns on the light to see tears running down her cheeks, when he feels her shoulders shaking as he takes her in his arms. 

He learned very quickly that all he can do is hold her tightly, securely - moving his hands over her body brings back too many bad memories. As he does, he whispers to her, promises that it's all going to be ok, that he's here, that nothing and nobody is going to hurt her again. 

He whispers to her until she calms, then he pulls her back down with him and they try to go back to sleep. 

*

She's getting used to him waking with a start in the middle of the night. 

The dreams, from what he's told her, aren't always the same. 

Sometimes he dreams of the shooting, feels the bullets piercing his chest in excruciating detail. 

Sometimes he dreams of her leaning over him, of Ronnie beside her, cursing like a trooper and ordering him not to die. He dreams of the ambulance and the hospital, things he can't really remember and that she will never forget. 

Sometimes, he doesn't dream that he got shot - he dreams that she did. Dreams that she died in his arms with him screaming her name - those nights are the worst. 

She knows from experience that there's very little she can do when he wakes up like that. So she does the only thing he can, the thing that always worked for her. 

She pulls him close, holds on to him tightly. She tells him that it's all going to be ok, that she's here, that nothing and nobody is going to hurt him again. 

She whispers until he's calm and then they try to go back to sleep. 

*

They're getting used to waking in the middle of the night. 

It's not with a start any more, because each of them are sleeping with one ear open at the moment, like they're waiting for the most minute change in the baby's breathing, to say nothing of the fact that they each seem to have an internal alarm that warns them that four hours of precious slumber is approaching its end. 

At the first hint of a whimper, they move like the team they are, one of them going to the crib near their bed, lifting the tiny eight week old baby and bringing her back to bed. The other stumbles to the kitchen, heats the bottle and brings it back to the bedroom. Then one of them handles the feeding while the other goes back to sleep. 

Or at least that's the plan. 

The reality is that while one does the feeding, the other stares at them, barely able to believe how lucky they are. They whisper quietly to one another about the wonder that is their daughter, about childhood memories and dreams for the future. Those whispers are full of hopes and wishes and smiles, a far cry from the whispers of previous years.  

Those whispered words are some of the most precious time they spend together, time they almost didn't have, and they never take it, or each other for granted. Not when they know how lucky they are. 


End file.
